


The Scientific Method (Al does more kisses)

by ang3lba3, Mellomailbox



Series: Polycule? More like poly COOL [6]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Aromantic, Asexual Character, Friendship, Kissing, M/M, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Post-Canon, Post-Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:27:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21962827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/pseuds/ang3lba3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellomailbox/pseuds/Mellomailbox
Summary: Al does some more kissing.This series describes a polycule between a lot of major FMA:B characters. Main pairings vary per fic, though others may be referenced in any. See series summary for complete explanation of pairings.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Roy Mustang, Roy/Al if you SQUINT
Series: Polycule? More like poly COOL [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578928
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	The Scientific Method (Al does more kisses)

**Author's Note:**

> I personally planned on making most of these ficlets Roy/Ed, but sometimes Alphonse just grabs you by the mouth and you have to let him. Also I didn't tell ang3lba3 that I was writing or posting this so all mistakes are 100% my own.
> 
> note from ang3lba3: we discussed this idea and while i didnt write this i can see our entire spitballing discussion reflected in here just about! so I'm accepting the co-creator request, but much of the exact phrasing and making it a Story with punctuation instead of a series of screaming memes is mello :) i also fixed 1 quotation mark that was written as ' so you may credit me for that great contribution as well.

Brigadier General Mustang’s office is located in a different wing than it had been when he was Colonel. From a security standpoint it makes sense not to have giant windows (a sniper’s wet dream, Riza tells him) directly behind his desk.

From a not-losing-his-mind standpoint it’s truly terrible. Who knows what time it is? (He does. He has a watch.) Here he is, alone, lamenting away at useless paperwork, all alone. By himself. His team long fled, leaving him to his ink stained misery.

“Sir.”

His team has _left_ him, useless now that Riza can no longer be his adjunct and has been reassigned. He just doesn’t strike the same amount of fear in them that she did. There’s no loyalty.

“Brigadier General.”

Roy sighs and moves another paper from one pile to another. There’s no ‘finished’ pile. Only perpetually in need, always urgent, can’t be put off, _I hope you don’t ever want to spend time with colleagues or family or in your own home again, Brigadier General, helpless masochist for military beurachracy. You like that? You like spending days and nights chained to this desk, begging for more?_ He grabs another page. He imagines, for a moment, lighting it up. His fingers itch.

“Roy.”

He looks up and blinks. Alphonse is there, sleepy eyed and blank-faced. If he was still in the armor he would say that Al’s eyes are amused, but that seems to be mostly projection.

“Major Elric,” Roy greets tiredly. “You were dismissed at what I’m coming to be sure was hours ago.”

“It’s been an hour, sir. It’s half to 6 now.” No change in his expression, but that’s definitely amusement in his voice. He merely arches a brow.

Alphonse’s lips turn down and he furrows his brows, eyes focusing. Roy gets the impression that he’s being scrutinized and there’s the distinct chance he’ll be found lacking.

“How was your date with Vanessa?" Roy asks in an attempt to distract Alphonse from whatever misery he’s planning. Is this Riza’s doing? Did Riza leave a guidebook for how to deal with him? Why hasn’t he seen it yet?

“She’s funny,” Alphonse tells him. Roy knows this, and is glad that Alphonse can see it too. “I gave you my report.” As if to emphasize Roy’s incompetence, Alphonse pulls it out from the middle of a stack without looking. Roy takes it and places it back on top.

“So I see.” Alphonse is looking at him again. It’s much like a hawk staring down a mouse, but not in the efficiently sure way that Colonel Hawkeye does. His head is cocked cutely to the side, arms stiff and lip pulled between his teeth. He’s not looking at Roy’s eyes.

It’s _bizarre_.

“Brigadier General,” Alphonse says. His face is still flat determination, but his voice wavers. “Sir. _Roy._ ”

“I respond to all of those titles, yes,” Roy agrees, propping his chin on his fist in an effort to seem nonchalant. In his time returned to his body Alphonse has developed many quirks and has had to navigate many ailments. This is evidenced today by the jar of pickles on his desk and the use of his cane; neither a daily occurrence, but familiar enough that Roy doesn’t question. Additionally, Alphonse struggles with body language and modulating his expressions; he’s either completely blank and stiff or comically overt.

There’s also the...tics.

“Yes, well,” Alphonse shifts, and then he’s leaning over the desk, palm flat over the papers in an effort to brace himself. Roy doesn’t move as they’re now nose to nose, although he does let both eyebrows slowly raise in a display of calm surprise that he only allows people he trusts to see. Nothing is forthcoming, and Al still isn’t looking him in the eyes.

“Well?”

“You know that I trust you, sir?” It’s not really a question, not a statement. Some sort of half-breed of the two, much like Alphonse is a half-breed between boy and demigod.

“I wouldn’t presume, but I would be honored.”

Alphonse gives him a very _Ed_ look and Roy feels them step back onto solid ground.

“I trust you,” he repeats, “and I want to -- actually, I need your _help_ with something.”

Roy waits. He’ll do anything for the Elrics, an open secret that even someone as dense as the eldest is aware of.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Alphonse warns. He doesn’t ask, because Roy will do anything for them and he knows it. He’s very suddenly not on solid ground again, or near it, nor is it in sight. He’s actually flying wildly through the air, limbs akimbo and heart pulled through his toes.  
Roy, for his part, is too startled to do anything but kiss back. You don’t have to think to kiss, after all, not when you’re Roy Mustang. It’s a second nature almost as natural as fire alchemy. Alphonse leans in and their lips touch and Roy’s body goes “yeah, ok” and he carefully takes Al’s bottom lip between both of his even as his brain is filled with the screech of feedback when two of Feury’s radios get too close.

Alphonse makes a soft sound and Roy tilts his chin up, licking at the seam of his lips. The sound Alphonse makes this time is startled, but Roy’s body knows how to soothe that and he deepens the kiss by stroking their tongues together and biting gently at the tip of Al’s tongue. He gasps again and Roy changes the angle, wet, warm sounds harsh in the silent office.

They break away. Roy’s brain is still offline, and he licks his lips. Alphonse’s cheeks are flushed and his mouth is shiny red and his eyes are distant, the way they --both brothers, that is-- get when they’re calculating something in their head.

Then Alphonse grimaces, wipes his mouth, and says, emphatically, “ _Nope._ ”

He stands to go and Roy feels the floor drop out from underneath him. Just as Alphonse reaches the door he manages a rough “wait.”

Gold eyes blink back at him, too innocent. He reminds himself never to put Alphonse undercover in the field. “What theory were you testing?” He asks. He _knows these brothers._

“Oh. I’ve only ever kissed Winry and Brother, and I wanted to see if positive sensory feedback was due to familiarity or trust, or if there was some sort of inherent attraction involved.”

Roy’s about to ask what his conclusions are when the implications of his words catch up to him and his pen snaps in his hand. He glances down at his shirt, decorated in black, and up at the empty doorway.

There’s still a jar of pickles on his desk. He wonders what time it is.

**Author's Note:**

> find ang3lba3 on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cryingiscooltm)


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